We Could Both Be Winners
by WinchesterLicious
Summary: **SMUT** When you and Dean make a bet, you come up with a plan to make it go your way...but will it work or not?


"Babe, can you come here, please?", Dean's voice carries from the garage and into the kitchen where you're unloading the dishwasher.

"I'll be right there", you yell back, sliding the mug into it's proper place of the cupboard and closing the door before padding your way into the garage where your husband had been working on his prized 1967 Chevy Impala with his brother Sam almost all day.

"What, you need another beer or something?", you ask upon opening the door adjoined to the kitchen.

"Actually, no. Just come here", he replies, crooking a finger at you. You make your way over to him, tilting your head to the side.

"Yeah?", you question.

"Well", he smirks and pulls you to him, rubbing his hands up and down your back. "Sam's gone and I thought you might have wanted something with the way you kept prancing in here, swaying your ass like there's no tomorrow and showing me your cleavage every damn chance you got."

You try to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling, but it's not effective. "Maybe", you give a small giggle and drop your chin to your chest. It's exactly why you were doing what you were doing, and this is the exact goal you were going for.

Not playing shyly, Dean cups your chin and lifts it, meeting your lips with his. He nibbles at yours briefly before delving inside to chase your tongue with his. As the kiss progresses, the past few day's lack of intimacy takes over the both of you. Dean's hands wrap around your hips, pushing them down with an obvious intention as his mouth departs yours. "I want your mouth on me", his jade orbs are darken than usual and sparkling with lust. "Please", he urges you on. It only takes a moment for you to agree, figuring that you could use this to your advantage.

Your only response is a smirk as you sink down onto your knees, right on the cold, concrete floor and balance yourself on your shins. Unzipping the coverall, you pull each sleeve until the heavy material falls down to his feet. Your next move is to hastily shed him of his pants and boxer briefs, making his hardened manhood spring to life beyond it's former confines. One hand climbs up to fondle his balls, the other wrapping around the base of his shaft and giving it a pump all the way to the tip. His hands land on your shoulders for stability as he exhales sharply. Moving your fist back down, you lift yourself up to cover his tip with your lips. You swirl your tongue around it and lap at the slit, then plunge your head down, taking as much of him in as you can. Wanting the element of surprise for a certain purpose, you pull back up and hollow your cheeks, not sparing the time to tease him. You continue your work, bobbing up and down at a rapid pace, your mind only on one thing; getting him off as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately for you, he grasps each side of your head and holds you still, stopping your ministrations. You don't get the chance to question his actions before his fingers glide through your tresses gently as he eases himself in and out of your mouth slowly and carefully. "You wanna feel me inside of you like this?", he asks, awakening your libido. You can imagine his erection sliding into your heated depths, expanding your delicate muscles over and over again, driving you to the edge of insanity. "You'd feel everything. Savor each feeling. Every tingle would run through your body in slow motion." You tilt your head back and catch his gaze, content with his lust-droopy eyelids.

"Mmhm", you utter around him, feeling a familiar heaviness settle itself at your center. You don't think there's anything you'd love more right now; pleasuring Dean is one of those things that affects you just as much him.

"Or maybe", he speaks louder and tips your head back by grabbing a handful of hair at the base of your neck and moves his hips briskly, catching you offguard. Your hands fall to the floor, palms pressed rigidly on the flat surface to keep yourself upright. "Maybe you want it hard and fast, me pounding into you. Making you hurt, making you scream. You'll be sore, your throat raw." His jaw is clenched, his chest heaving in and out with each breath, your vision blurry from the tears caused by him unmercilessly hitting the back of your throat repeatedly and making you gag.

For some reason, you're turned on even more now, and when he reluctantly ceases, the bitter taste of pre-come fresh on your tastebuds. What really sets you off is when he lowers himself in front of you and attaches his teeth to a string at one side, giving it a tug. That side of your undergarment sags, and Dean kisses his way across the top of the fabric, all the way to the other side, doing the same thing, watching intently as the now useless piece of clothing cascades to the ground. Next, he bends down and takes hold of your wrists, then gets you back up to your feet and all but commands, "Take the skirt off and get on top of Baby".

Your arousal has weakened your limbs somewhat, making the task a bit more difficult than it should be, but you manage. Less than a minute later you're perched upon your husband's black car, finding not knowing what's going to happen next quite erotic. Dean rids himself completely of all clothing and stalks to you in just a few strides, where he parts your legs with his hands on your knees and steps between them. His hand trails down your leg all the way to a foot and plucks off the heel, then lifts said bodypart up and to the side, propping it up. The backside of your knee is taken immediately following that and held up to his side.

"Fucking Christ", Dean murmurs and runs a hand down the side of his face after getting a good glimpse of your throbbing center, that you're certain is glistening with your essence. He doesn't say anything more, he just clamps his teeth down onto his bottom lip and descends the front of your body with a hand, letting it linger over the smooth mound of your freshly waxed skin, a mere inch above where you most crave his touch. You sigh aloud, inducing the movement of his caress to the crease of your bikini line. The pad of his finger tantalizes you on one side, then hurriedly crosses over to the other, barely skimming your entrance, but making you buck your hips up in the process. Sensing your distress, he speaks soundly. "My hands are dirty. I really shouldn't touch you with them right now."

"I-", your train of thought is broken by the warmth of his cock gliding over your slick flesh, eliciting a drawn out moan. You clutch his shoulders to hold on, tipping your head back as jolts of pleasure shoot through you. The left cup of your bra is nudged down, a nipple encompassed in Dean's hot orifice and held in place by his teeth as his tongue laves at the puckered bud. He rubs himself against you continuously, working you up until your legs begin to quiver and it feels as if you're getting a drink after being lost in the desert for a week with no supplies. "Dean...Dean", you nearly chant, your grip digging into his skin forcefully.

"Not yet, babe", he backs away almost apprehensively, making you whimper and grit your teeth in aggravation. "Come on, get down", he says, and you comply, too hungry for a touch, a kiss; anything to help soothe the ache.

You're now bent over, facing the car with your hands resting above the side fender of the car, with your hips drawn out, Dean crouched down on the floor directly behind you. His soft locks tickle your thighs when he swoops in to suck at one flap of skin surrounding your core, and then the other.

"Do you remember the first time you wore those panties for me? All the things you let me do to you that night? You were shameless." He entices you by referring to the black scrap of fabric laying on the floor that he took off of you earlier. The memories from that night make your face burn bright, while the inferno blazing inside of you makes every single inch of your flesh burn, from the tips of your toes all the way to the top of your head.

You gasp when he flicks his tongue against your more than sensitive clit, causing you to push closer to his face, seeking much needed relief from the pent up tension coiled tightly inside your womb. Dean pulls away all too soon though, giving a choked chuckle that hints at his own desperate need. Frustration sets in, causing tears to well up and you close your eyes. "Just-", you begin, your whole plan getting off course and causing you even more agony than it was worth in the first place.

"Let's call off the bet, right now. Neither one of us winning or losing. Let me love you", he coaxes, his fingertips dance up the outside of your thighs while his nose drags across your backside. The little wager the two of you made less than a week ago seems completely futile at this point; the diamond fringe bracelet at Tiffany's that you picked out as your prize suddenly ebbs away into nothing of importance.

Every nerve ending inside of you screams for attention. "O-okay", you stammer, unsure how much longer you would've been able to hold out anyway.

"Atta girl", he roars, still between your legs, prior to dipping his tongue inside of you, refusing to let you change your mind.

"Fuck!", you cry out, using your hands to steady yourself from the unexpected onset of trembling legs. Much to your appreciation, he doesn't stop, but persists with his tongue thrusts; meanwhile you rock your hips to heighten the sensations. Regrettably it's just not getting you where you need to be. "It's not...not enough", you whine, feeling as if you'll explode if you don't get release soon. It feels like a sickness, your body temperature skyrockets and you're breaking out in a sweat. "DEAN!", you shout, slapping your palm loudly on the car to get his attention.

You're just about to curse at your loss when Dean buries his cock inside of you. Instead of pumping, he swivels his hips in circles, making your vision hazy and your knees weaken. You don't recognize the sound of your own voice as you cry out, never knowing that bliss could be this sweet. Dean's chin grinds into your shoulder, his hips slowing down and finding the perfect angle to bring you to your climax. "Yeah, that's it", you call out breathlessly, your toes curling even tighter as each brush of his dick against your sweet spot pushes you higher. His hands cover yours, fingers entwining as he ruthlessly drives into you, his hips and balls slamming into your backside as each thrust comes harder and deeper.

Everything tenses up and a white light explodes behind your eyelids just as you reach orgasm. The first spasm tears through you, making you clench around Dean powerfully, bringing forth his own climax. Your muscles grip him over and over again as his seed spurts out, milking his release while yours goes on, until the both of you go slack and you're pushed into the car for support. You didn't realize that you had forgotten to breathe until you take a deep inhale, your eyes widening at the realization.

"That good huh?", Dean turns you around and presses a kiss to your neck.

"Don't flatter yourself", you playfully roll your eyes, leaning against him.

"I'm kinda hungry", Dean spits out while rubbing his belly. "I sure could go for a sandwich right now, if a certain beautiful woman would so kindly go make me one", he toys with your fingers.

You sigh and lean your head back against the window. "Well, if a particularly handsome man knew how to take care of me right, I wouldn't be in any shape to go make one", you shoot back, making his eyebrows raise and his jaw drop. You can't help but to laugh as you straighten up and begin walking away, your husband unable to produce a comeback.


End file.
